


The Healing Touch

by garbage_dono



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Galaxy Garrison, Hurt/Comfort, Lotura Secret Santa 2018, Season 7 AU, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 11:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17058845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbage_dono/pseuds/garbage_dono
Summary: Lotor is sick. Allura helps.





	The Healing Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Experiment](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Experiment/gifts).



> My Lotura Secret Santa gift to Lady-Experiment! Hope you enjoy. <3

“Sir – are you listening?”

Lotor blinked through the fog that seemed to have settled around his head, staring at Kolivan for longer than he would have liked as he tried to conjure up an answer. He’d certainly just been saying…something. Something about the recruitment of new members for the Blade of Marmora. Something that sounded important.

He straightened his back and cleared his throat, wincing at the way it felt – hot and scratchy. “Yes,” he said. Had his voice been that hoarse this morning? “Of course. Please go on.”

Kolivan didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded anyway. “As I was saying, we’ve managed to bolster our numbers nearly to the point where we’ll have members stationed in all the most strategically important sectors, including Quanlor, Mirk, and Zexus. Once they’ve completed their training of course. Krolia is seeing to that, and she’s optimistic that at least most of them will survive-“

Lotor coughed, claws curling against the conference table as he tried to muffle it into his fist. It didn’t do much to help as he drew in a rattling breath and listlessly gestured for Kolivan to keep going.

“We’re…still stretched thin, but-“ Lotor reached for a glass of water and choked it halfway down before coughing again. “But we’re…we’re doing-“ This scratch in his throat was a stubborn one. No matter how much he tried to force it down, it only made him start hacking again in earnest. Kolivan sighed. “Sir…are you sure you’re-“

“ _Yes._ ” His voice was raspy. More of a hiss than anything else. “Yes, tell me-“ He tried to clear his throat and started hacking again against his palm. “Tell me about – about your plans for defending Olkarion.”

But Kolivan only frowned at him. “Respectfully, sir…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Lotor looked up at him, eyes watering and shoulders shuddering as his throat burned. “Why not?”

“Because I believe you may have caught something, sir.”

Lotor huffed. “Caught something.”

“An illness.”

“I know what you _meant._ But I’m not-“

“You’re sweating, sir.”

Brow knitting, Lotor brought a hand up to his brown. It came away slick. Odd – he’d thought the room felt awfully chilly. “It’s nothing.”

Kolivan opened his mouth – likely to argue – but just as he did, the tickle in the back of Lotor’s throat moved to his nose, and he barely managed to press his face into the crook of his elbow before – “ _Ah-CHOO!_ ”

He groaned. Suddenly his head was aching.

“Perhaps…we should reschedule this meeting until a later time.”

Kolivan was already standing with a bow. “I’ll see to the arrangements, sir.”

* * *

Between the conference room and his quarters, Lotor went from feeling bad to feeling _miserable._ The Garrison base was the size of a cruiser and ten times as confusingly laid out, especially with the fever he suspected was brewing in him making his head feel so damn foggy. He managed to stumble his way down the hall, ignoring the odd looks and hesitant salutes from the younger cadets he passed, and he rounded the corner just in time nearly smash straight into-

“Allura?”

Ancients, his voice sounded nothing like his own. Nasally and rough, getting caught up in the congestion in his sinuses and dragging across the dryness in his throat. He must have looked at least as bad as he sounded – if not worse – because the moment Allura laid eyes on him, she brought a hand to her mouth. “Stars – Lotor, you’re-“

He groaned. “I know.” He rubbed at his temples, hoping it would help alleviate some of the pressure that was building there. It felt like his skull was going to crack from it. “I already had to cut short a meeting with Kolivan thanks to this infernal _pounding_ in my head.”

“You’re sick,” she told him. It was a statement, not a question. “Ancients, I…I don’t think I’ve ever _seen_ you sick before.”

He raised a brow at her. Did he think him immortal? She wouldn’t have been the first. He sighed. “Even quintessence has its limits.”

“Maybe you should get some sleep.”

That was the plan, but a moment later, Allura’s eyes lit up as an idea seemed to form in an instant in her mind. “I could bring you some chicken noodle soup!”

“Chicken…” he mused, sneering. “Is it that feathery…scaly creature Pidge showed me not too long ago. With the…”

He made a vague hand gesture in front of his mouth, fingers pressed together against his thumb to form a point by his lips. Allura blinked at him.

“With the beak?” she offered.

“Yes.”

“I think so.”

“Then I’d rather not.” He shivered. “Wretched looking things…”

“It’s not so bad in soup,” she offered. “If you can get past the noodles at least. They’re not unlike slippery little worms…” She grimaced. “Perhaps I should just bring you some tea.”

Despite his headache and the heaviness of his limbs, Lotor managed a smile. “You don’t need to bring me a thing. All I need is a few vargas’ rest and a cup of that bean drink Keith is so fond of-“

But he was only halfway through the next word when Allura’s hands curled into determined fists by her sides, and she pouted as she blocked his way past. “Oh no you don’t. You run yourself too ragged as it is, and you’ve had quite enough of that dreadful _coffee_ stuff! That’s probably how you got yourself into this state in he first place!”

He tried to step past her, but she was having none of it. “Allura-“

“I’ll send word to the Garrison that you’ll be resting for the next two quintants. No briefings or tactical meetings. And _certainly_ no coffee.”

“ _Allura-_ “

“That’s _Princess_ Allura to you,” she said, a smug smile stretching across her lips. And that, Lotor supposed, was that. She’d won.

But it hardly felt like a loss.

His strength steadily left him as she tugged him down the hall and all but shoved him down onto the bed. It left him with little energy to argue, not that he particularly wanted to. “Now-“ she told him, lips pressed into a stern line as she bent down enough to unbutton his Garrison-issued shirt. “The first rule of being sick to make sure one is as comfortable as can be. And that means taking this off.”

Despite his weakness, he sniffled and managed a smirk. “If you want me to take off my clothes, you know all you need to do is ask.”

Her face flushed pink as she tugged off the outer shirt and folded it over her forearm. “The second rule is no flirting.”

“I like the first rule better.”

“You can finish undressing yourself,” she huffed, but as she turned and hung up his shirt he caught the edge of a smile tugging on her lips.

“As you wish,” he sighed, and he had to admit it was a relief stripping off his outer layers and crawling under the sheets. They were crisp and cool against his flushed skin, and the moment his head hit the pillow his eyes felt heavy.

He let out a hum, feeling the bed dip beside him. And a moment later, a hand pressed against his back, rubbing in small soothing circles.

“You push yourself too hard you know.”

He sighed into the pillow, letting his eyes slide closed. “I survived this long haven’t I? I must be doing something right.”

The sheets pulled back, a draft hitting his shoulders before the warmth of Allura’s body slid up against his own. He closed his eyes. _Exquisite._

“You’re safe here,” she said, dropping a kiss to his shoulder. “Among friends.”

Friends. It was such an odd thing to think. He’d counted few as such over his long life. Acxa and Narti and Ezor and Zethrid…they had been friends of necessity who had grown into something more tight-knit over time. Dayak knew him better than anyone, and he suppose that meant she counted in a loose sense of the term. But Hunk cooked him more Earth foods than he could ever name. Pidge was always showing him things she called “memes” that were apparently supposed to be funny. Keith sparred with him in the wee hours in the morning when he needed to clear his head.

And Allura…well, she was something different entirely. Something he couldn’t put into words, but that he didn’t feel the need to. It was comfortable in how undefinable it was.

He used the last of his strength to turn and look at her, meeting her eye. “You’ll catch whatever I have if you stay so close.”

She shrugged, burying her nose against his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him. “Rule number three – just let me take care of you.”

Well, he thought as he closed his eyes, who was he to disobey his princess?


End file.
